


Every Letter: Ten Years

by bleebug



Series: "Every Letter" AU Series [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleebug/pseuds/bleebug
Summary: Emma and Killian celebrate ten years together. (Every Letter-verse.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because I realized yesterday that in the Every Letter verse, Killian and Emma first kissed the day after Thanksgiving in 2006...

_My dearest Emma,_

_I find it fitting that we give thanks for everything we are grateful for and celebrate with family and friends the day before we get to celebrate the memory of our first kiss, the very moment that we both stopped pretending that what we felt for each other was nothing more than friendship. For you, my love, and for our children and the lives we’ve built together here, I am most thankful._

_Ten years ago, I wrote you a letter telling you everything I’d wanted to say for years. I confessed to you of my yearning, how very much I had loved you in secret, and how I wished to take that next step with you, for us to be together. And ten years ago, you wrote me a letter in return that, even now as I think of it, touched me so deeply that I fear there’s nowhere for all the overflowing love to go but out through my tears._

_It’s a momentous occasion, I think, celebrating ten years together, a milestone that honestly snuck up on me. Have I truly been blessed with an entire decade worth of kisses and I-love-you’s and precious moments spent with you and our family? Sometimes it shocks me. Sometimes I still expect to wake up and realize that this has all been some wild, beautiful, fantastical dream. It’s that perfect to me._

_I love you, Emma Jones, and I am looking forward to the next ten, twenty, fifty years and more with you._

_Happy Anniversary._

_Your best friend, lover, husband, soul mate, father of your children, luckiest man alive,  
_ _Killian_

 

 

She couldn’t stop grinning. Every year he wrote her sweet letters like this, romantic little homages to the unique way in which they became friends and fell in love. While she didn’t quite feel the dramatic swoops in the pit of her stomach now at every gesture, she did bask in the way he still put in so much effort to make her feel loved and content.

Anniversaries in the Jones household were always memorable, and they made a point to celebrate twice a year – the day they first confessed their love, conveniently following Thanksgiving which was already part of a holiday week, and the day of their wedding in July. Today marked the twentieth such celebration they’d shared together over the course of their ten-year relationship.

Their first relationship anniversary had been a near disaster. Killian had planned a lovely picnic date out on the sailboat that Liam had given them as a belated wedding gift, but unfortunately the weather chose not to cooperate. It was so windy that he had trouble maneuvering the boat (“ _Ship_ , Swan! Stop calling the Jolly a boat.”), and once they were out on the rocky waves, the air seemed to fall a good fifteen degrees colder and the chill crept beneath their coats and seeped into their bones. By the time they made it back to the docks, their teeth were chattering and they drove home to their old apartment as quickly as they could. It hadn’t been a total loss, of course. The long, hot bath they’d shared to warm up had been beyond pleasant, in more ways than one.

After that, several of their anniversaries sparked weekend getaways in New York, week-long cruises down the coast, trips to Europe… and she cherished those adventures, loved to see the framed photos capturing those memories lined up on the walls and on bookshelves, of her and Killian and Henry squeezed together with excited smiles on their faces with gorgeous cityscapes or ocean views as their backdrops. But she loved the quiet anniversaries at home just as much, perhaps even more than the ones they spent traveling.

Their fourth wedding anniversary was spent on the couch in the living room of the house they’d bought a few months earlier. They exchanged gifts in the early evening over ice-cold glasses of lemonade. She had watched Killian’s eyes light up with joy upon seeing the classic, old neon “Open” sign that she hoped he would install in the window of his and Robin’s brand new little seafood café by the docks. She very nearly cried when Killian and Henry pushed her gift out from the hallway – a custom-made rocking chair with cushions so soft she felt like she was floating on a cloud and such perfectly detailed woodwork that she just _knew_ Killian had a hand in designing. She had, after all, been nearly nine months pregnant with Charles at the time. It had been a perfect addition to his nursery, and she spent so many hours sitting there, rocking him to sleep, letting him nurse, singing and reading to him, that she sometimes felt like that chair was part of the family, too.

On the day of their sixth relationship anniversary, she discovered she was pregnant again. She and Killian hadn’t even been trying, but her birth control clearly hadn’t worked as it was supposed to. Still, it was happy news, and it made her even happier to wrap a little yellow ribbon around the test stick and see her husband’s expression morph into awe, a teary-eyed smile telling her that it was possibly the greatest gift she could have given him.

Recently, the biannual celebrations of their relationship were more of a casual family affair. They’d exchange modest gifts, perhaps new clothes or useful kitchen gadgets (God, they were so Married), grab lunch at Granny’s, and maybe have a relaxing dinner at home with their kids.

She set his letter on the dresser, making a mental note to tuck it into her newest letter binder later, and made her way downstairs, chuckling as she heard their daughter, Elizabeth – named after Killian’s late mother – melting into a fit of giggles.

“Daddy, no! Stop!” she laughed. Emma made it to the bottom step and turned to the kitchen to see Henry holding her upside down by her ankles as Killian leaned down to blow raspberries on her tummy. Charles was on the floor, his arms wrapped around Killian’s leg as he goaded them on. Elizabeth squealed and wriggled in Henry’s hold, flailing her arms around to try and push her dad’s face away from her.

Emma cleared her throat, giving an amused grin as they all whipped their heads around to look at her.

“Mama, save me!” her daughter cried. “Daddy farting on my belly!”

Henry snorted a laugh and Killian stuck his tongue out at her. Charles ignored the lot of them and came barreling around the island and into her.

“Oof,” she grunted as his head hit her in the gut. She brushed her fingers through his curly brown hair and kissed the top of his head. He lifted his arms up and she sighed as she picked him up. “Charlie, you’re getting too big for this.”

“Nu-uh!”

By the time she managed to heft him over to the breakfast table, Henry had graciously released Elizabeth and was helping Killian scoop bacon, eggs, and pancakes onto plates. She pushed his chair closer to the table and just as they were setting down breakfast on the table, Killian leaned over to chastely press his lips to hers.

“Good morning, Mrs. Jones. And happy anniversary.”

She pulled him back down for one more, a little longer, a little less chaste.

“Happy ten years, Killian.”

“Dad, Mom, come on. I’m losing my appetite, here.”

She rolled her eyes at Henry’s teasing and Killian just gave him a sly wink before grabbing her around the waist and dipping her, kissing her fully and breaking apart with a loud smack, and then laughing as Henry jokingly closed his eyes and covered his ears. At fifteen, he was as much a smartass as she ever was – definitely her child.

When they finally all sat down to eat, Henry softly cleared his throat and she raised her brows as she looked over at him.

“Happy anniversary, guys,” he said, his eyes full of sincerity.

“Happy anniversary!” her other children followed, their voices lilting in a sing-song.

Killian grasped her hand on the table and gave it a gentle squeeze. She offered him a soft smile, recalling wonderful moments of their years together. They’d come so far, she mused, from those lonely little children they were when they first began speaking. Henry was already almost the age she was when she got pregnant with him, which was also around the time when Killian said he’d fallen in love with her. It felt so strange to realize how much time had passed already.

They spent their morning visiting with Mary Margaret, David, and their son Leo – now eight years old and full of energy. Their afternoon was spent out on the Jolly Roger, which Henry could now successfully captain on his own, and in the evening they dressed to the nines and kissed their children on their way out the door for a real, proper date.

She was sure they would head towards the fancy Italian place on Main Street, but instead, he parked right out front of the café he and Robin jointly owned, the lot empty of all other vehicles. She eyed him suspiciously but he just grinned and took her hand, pulling her along behind him as they entered. 

It was cliché and ridiculous and cheesy-level romantic, yet she couldn’t help the delighted gasp of awe at the way he’d transformed the place.

All the tables were gone save the solitary, red-velvet cloth-covered one in the center of the room. Pure white Christmas lights hung from the ceiling and the low flickering of flames from candles helped provide the soft, romantic atmosphere that encompassed the entire restaurant. Gentle music played from the speakers on the walls and the place was as spotless as she’d ever seen it.

“May I take your coat, love?”

She turned to him with a beaming grin and nodded, allowing him to slide the soft blue pea coat from her shoulders and hang it on the coat rack. He did the same with his own and then placed a hand in the small of her back as they walked towards the table. As expected, he pulled her chair out for her.

“Such a gentleman.”

“Always.”

Within moments of sitting, she heard footsteps come from the kitchen and swiveled around to see Robin – in a freaking tuxedo – carrying a bottle of wine towards them.

“Oh my god,” she said, grinning and clasping a hand over her mouth.

“Mate, I said dress _nicely_.”

“What? I am dressed nicely.” He poured hefty amount of wine into each of their glasses and then tugged at the bowtie wrapped around his neck.

“You look like a cartoon butler.”

“Oi. You can serve your own anniversary dinner, if you’d rather.”

Emma giggled into her palm as she watched Killian roll his eyes.

Robin had moved to Storybrooke not even a year after she married Killian. Apparently he’d found the town charming and an ideal location for he and his son Roland to start anew. Or, perhaps more accurately, he’d found himself charmed by its resident mayor. Emma smiled as she peered over at the silver band around his ring finger. He and Regina were definitely good for each other. She tried to remember what it was like when she’d first moved to Storybrooke, how she and Regina (back then, ‘Mayor Mills’) were more awkward acquaintances than friends. Their relationship now was much more amicable. She and Robin frequently invited them over for dinner, and Roland still followed Henry around like a puppy, even after all these years.

Robin gave her a knowing wink as he turned and headed back into the kitchen.

“So,” she said, brushing her fingertips across his knuckles on the table. He turned his hand and entwined their fingers together. “You really went all out.”

“Of course, love. It’s a special day.” He tugged on her hand and brought it to his lips, gently kissing it and then smoothing his thumb overtop.

It was special. And he made every effort to prove it to her.

Their date was so lovely and very reminiscent of those he took her on in the early years of their relationship. She didn’t mind that they were less frequent now. They were both busy people – with both work and their parental duties – so fancy dates were more of a rare luxury now. Honestly, it made them seem that much more wonderful to her when they did find time for them.

But this one was something else, and Emma wasn’t sure if it was because of Killian’s detailed planning (down to replicating the same three-course menu they had on their first real date a decade ago; how on earth he remembered things like that, she wasn’t sure) or because of how significant the day was as a benchmark in their relationship. Because, when she thought about it, she wasn’t quite ten years old when they sent their first letters to each other. They’d been in a loving relationship longer than she’d been a friendless, sad little girl. It was kind of moving, in a way.

The conversation flowed easily between them as it always did, but on this night, instead of speaking of work and finances and what they needed to get on their next trip to the grocery store, they spoke of old letters and phone calls, of their childhoods and the way their friendship had helped one another, of the memories of meeting for the first time and how much of an honor and privilege it was to have fallen in love. They reflected on their wedding, of a kindergarten-age Henry, of the births of Elizabeth and Charles, of each and every anniversary they’d celebrated.

And when they finally made it home after hours of the most perfect anniversary date, Henry had already tucked in his siblings and gone to bed himself. The house was blessedly quiet and Killian gently tugged her up the stairs and to their room.

They locked the bedroom door and slowly undressed each other between languid kisses over lips and necks and shoulders, then fell together under the sheets. His fingers and lips traced patterns over every inch of her skin and she held him close and brushed her hand through his hair as their bodies joined. It was soft and unhurried and they kept their voices in hushed whispers. To her, it was perfect.

He fell asleep with his head tucked beneath her chin, his arms thrown over her waist, and she continued to caress his back and shoulders, too wrapped up in her thoughts to sleep. She managed to slide away from his hold without waking him, then turned the bedside lamp on and opened her top drawer to pull out a pen and paper.

 

 

_Killian,_

_I want to thank you not only for a magical and romantic tenth anniversary celebration but for every single moment that led to it. We have twenty-three beautiful years of friendship to look back on and an entire decade of loving memories under our belts._

_More importantly, Husband, we have a long future together just ahead of us. There are so many great moments to look forward to with you and our family. Little Lizzy will be off to preschool pretty soon. Charlie is already growing like a weed and I’m sure in a few years’ time he’ll be helping you out at the café. God, Killian, Henry will be off to college in three years. How did our kid grow up so fast? (Let’s pretend for just a little bit longer that he’s still our little boy who likes smiley faces on his pancakes.)_

_I love you, Killian. Thank you for being there for me, always. Thank you for crossing an ocean to be with me. Thank you for loving me and building this home together with me. This life is everything I could ever have asked for and more, and it’s possible because a wonderful and kind little boy decided that a lost little girl thousands of miles away was worthy enough to be his best friend._

_I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you._

_Your tremendously fortunate and very happy wife,  
_ _Emma_


End file.
